


The Drafting That Ruined a Platoon

by IneffableNightmare



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Army, Cadets, Headcanon, Love/Hate, M/M, Military, Military Training, Neck Kissing, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 14:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableNightmare/pseuds/IneffableNightmare
Summary: Ortez and Gates both join the military and they last thing they expect to find, is each other.





	The Drafting That Ruined a Platoon

When Isaac Gates joined the army cadet program, he didn’t know what he was getting into. Well, he did. He expected early mornings and sleepless nights. He expected exhausting drills and his muscles to weep. He expected his bones to feel ready to crumble and his limbs to be numb. He expected dirt and grime. Torn flesh and blood.  Gates’ reputation had been made quite quickly. His shit eating smirk gained him notoriety when he was being yelled at by drill sergeants. Or anyone of authority, really. It was nearly impossible to break him down. He would always stand up more smug then he had been when he fell.    
  
It was difficult to criticise Gates. Every course and challenge was nothing more then a game to him. Games which he mostly won without much struggle. He was top of every class and every leader board. No one was a threat to his position.  The other cadets felt as if Gates was leading them. An alpha of sorts. He looked the idea of war in the face and smirked. He was smacked down time and time again and every hit would only make him beam brighter. Gates was a legend to cadets and a burden to everyone else. Impossible to reach, impossible to change.    
  
_ That was, until, Samuel Ortez was drafted.    
_   
Ortez has shown up out of seemingly nowhere. He just appeared one day, silent, and proceeded to knock a few of Gates’ records off the top spot. It was then that things became interesting. Felix suddenly had to fight for his reputation. He had to challenge this new mute recruit.  So the competition became fierce. The two of them were almost always squared off against one another. Gates would hiss and spit insults at the new recruit but nothing would get to him, so much so that he wondered if just maybe he was deaf _and_ mute. Despite the trash talks being one sided, they certainly didn’t take the competition as a joke. It was a square up, ultimately decided by Gates that Ortez would become his rival.    
  
Gates became angry with the mute. He fought hard and worked much more then he needed to. But there was something about Ortez. The big hunk of a man, silent as anything, waiting for something. Gates found himself angry and impatient to prove his worth.  One day when a new course had been built, Gates volunteered himself and Ortez to spar on the course. Ortez inevitably agreed and so began the toughest training ever recorded. The second the starting shot went and the both of them took off running, the rest of the recruits held their breaths in anticipation. Old records meant less then this new one. A first record.    
  
And so they fought for that first place harder then they had fought for anything ever before. In the end, a tie. But the lead up to said tie was undeniably intense. Neck and neck, occasionally overtaking, screaming and support from the crowd. Yes, there was crowd. The two of them covered from head to toe in mud and grime, cuts from barbed wire and grazes from the ground. But they’d reached the end at the same time. Out of breath, chests heaving, completely and undeniably ruined.  Gates had turned to him and, breathlessly panting, he whispered,   
“Well played.”    
He turned his attention to the crowd of cadets who were still carrying on. Ortez watched Gates’ lips upturned into that oh-so familiar smirk. His head moved back to meet Ortez’s eyes before he whispered,   
“Let’s get away from this lot...”    
  
God knew the motivation that pushed Ortez to follow Gates. They’d never been alone together before for obvious reasons. Gates was a man of many words whereas Ortez was a man of few. The two were not destined for comradely. Hatred seemed to be the only thing they had in common.    
  
“Where are we going...?” Ortez had asked, looking around the unfamiliar area. It was back behind two of the training buildings, an area where no one ever went. It resembled an alleyway, scattered with old equipment that hadn’t been used in years.    
“Not far.” Gates has said, darting down to check for what Ortez could any assume was other people. But he had spun on his heels and had begun to approach Ortez who was trailing behind.    
“I don’t believe that there is anything down he—“   
Ortez wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Gates had cupped his cheeks in his hands and slammed him against the wall behind. That rough kiss had been the last thing that Ortez had ever expected. Hatred, to his knowledge, didn’t often lead to such situations.    
“The one- fucking time that y-you talk.” Gates mumbled the words into Ortez’s mouth before he pulled himself back to look into Ortez’s eyes. Shell-shocked was the word. But along with that, in this eyes, Gates found the desire that he was feeling.    
“Well you don’t stop—“ Gates silenced him with the clashing of lips. It was in that moment that he completely forgot that Gates had hated him. By some means he found that he was kissing him back just as roughly. Hands gripping Gates’ small frame, to pull him closer.    
  
Over the next few weeks they _became_ closer. Their hatred had turned into something much more complex. The cadets in the platoon didn’t understand the dynamics of their relationship. One day it was hatred, the next their CO would find them in a supply closet or alleyway being much too friendly. Gates’ neck had become a canvas. Beautiful green and purple bruises of the deepest shades painted their away across his pale skin. Admittedly, he liked showing them off. Almost as much as he liked showing Ortez off.    
  
Ortez was his nemesis turned competition turned forced acquaintance turned partner. Yet the word partner wasn’t nearly enough to summarise their dynamic. Lover was far from correct too. Lover suggest a sort of bond that had bloomed from the beauty of circumstance. But in reality, their circumstance had been no where close to beautiful. If anything, their relationship had been raised from ash and dust. Gates liked the idea of Ortez and Ortez liked the idea of Gates. And together, well, together they made up a drafting that ruined a platoon.    
  
They had been dormed separately, a choice made intentionally to separate them, but they were both good at sticking to the shadows. Gates would arrange to meet him at a new place every night. He said it was to ‘keep him guessing’ but there was no guessing as to what they would do once the met up.  Gates was very much dictating their intimacy. He’d take Ortez’s wrist and lead him to a spot specifically chosen for that night. Then he’d pull Ortez close and slot their lips together in perfect rhymic unison. It would take a mere few seconds before Gate’s hand were roaming and mapping. Ortez was, as always, at Gates’ whim. There was not much Gates could ask of him that he wouldn’t do. Why that was? Well that was still a mystery. 

  
Their closeness hadn’t gone without some inquiry but it was being blamed on the uncertainly that was the idea of war. Not knowing how many hours were left in a day, wanting to spend ones last hours doing something, or someone, more enjoyable then the prospects of death. But Ortez thought there was more to Gates then that. Or there should have been. _But Gates had those same questions for Ortez._ Although despite Isaac’s lack of affection and his inability to show his relentlessly repressed emotions, he would on occasion let Ortez how much he did care. But it was always after Isaac had reminded him who was in charge in their relationship, something he usually showed by teasing Ortez beyond belief. One night Gates had decided that maybe he would indulge in Ortez’s affectionate side. __   
  
“Why are you here...?” Gates had asked one night when he was lazily pressed up against Ortez’s side. Their left hands linked, Gates was guiding their fingers to trail along his neck. Brushing across the freshly marked bites.    
“I’m sorry?”   
“Why are you here? In this platoon?” He tilted his head up to look Ortez in the eyes.    
“I...” he trailed off lightly,   
“Come on... tell me...” Gates had moved to kiss Ortez’s hand. Lips softly brushing over damaged knuckles. The light taste of iron came off the skin in slivers of dried blood.    
“Someone once told me that home is where the heart is. But I’ve never been too sure on where my heart is.”   
Felix laughed lightly,   
“What a poet.” The tone was teasing but he did turn to look Ortez in the eyes again, “What about yourself?”   
Felix’s eyes were distracted by the middle distance,   
“I’m not entirely sure.”   
And he wasn’t. As to why he was okay with awakening at ungodly hours to be ordered around and shouted at was something he couldn’t place a reason on. Chaos was something he thrived on. The adrenaline of it all would race in his system and bring a grin to his face. Life and death, defeat or victory. But so their lives continued to be a repeat of the same procedure. Awaken early, train brutally, find the closest dark corner and fall asleep that night exhausted in more ways than one. 

  
Their Commanding Officer, Mason Wu, lasted just a few months before he had called them into his office. Wearing a frown of relentless debate, he explained in broken sentences they their closeness be considered more carefully. That, once they got put out into war things would change. Sacrifices were to be made. Lives to be lost. Gates had scoffed and told him that they weren’t stupid. Ortez kept quiet, eyes drifting over to look at Gates. He realised that just maybe, this whole thing was turning into something more. As to whether Gates felt the same was an entire separate question. But despite Wu’s _‘gentlemen, please refrain from such… closeness in public_ ’ Gates continued to find new places to lead Ortez. Time continued to pass and Gates was learning new ways to mark Ortez as his. A bruise here and there, the mark of teeth, anything of the sort. The platoon was becoming well aware of their little escapades. Maybe painfully aware.   
  
Although one escapade at an ungodly hour of the morning did stand out from the rest. There was no real indication that this particular adventure to the out of bounds alleyways was going to be any different to the others. Not until Gates pulled his lips away and lingered his face by Ortez’s. He didn’t push back into the kiss and let them hang in panting silence. Until, eventually, Ortez spoke up.  
“What?”   
“You’re just,” Gate’s paused, looking for the right words, “okay I got it.”  
“Gates, what ar—“  
“Shh, shut up, I’m about to get sentimental.” Gates trailed off, pushing his finger against Ortez’s lips to quiet him,   
“I fucking hate you.”  
“This isn’t being sentimental—“   
“Wait! Lemme talk... I fucking hate you. You record replacing, authority stealing, asshat. I had all these sons of bitches wrapped around my finger. That was... until you.”  
  
Ortez genuinely considered that just maybe Gates had never looked at the definition of sentimental before.  
“And that day of the new course made me realise that I didn’t hate you as much as I thought I did. You told me that you were here to find your home. Well I’ve figured out that why I am here is to chase the riches of life...”   
He paused. Leaning in to linger closer.   
“Well I believe, Ortez, that you might just be the greatest of riches in my life...”   
he was slightly taken aback by the fondness that Felix was portraying. It was very unlike him, even more so when Gates took Ortez’s jaw into his hands and kissed him slowly. The slowness didn’t last, he never expected it too. But in that moment, in that gesture, Gates was genuine.   
  
In was also that moment, in that one gesture that Ortez had _finally_ found where his heart was.

**Author's Note:**

> Started this back in January and only just got around to finishing it off. Cadet era Lolix owns me...


End file.
